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The ITG Juice Cleanse Diary: Day 2

Catch up on Day 1 of the ITG Juice Cleanse Diary here. And now, Day #2:

Emily:

It’s a matter of chewing. That’s what I decided, after yesterday. Chewing is a blast. I probably don’t chew my food enough (aren’t you supposed to chew every bite 30 times or something?), but I love it nonetheless. Chewing is important to me, and so today, I swapped out Juice Press—which is great, don’t get me wrong; in fact I’d say, all things considered, it’s the best of the New York City juice cleanses when you factor in convenience, portability, quality and flavor—for a food-inclusive option from The Butcher’s Daughter, a “juice bar and café” that recently opened in Nolita [1]. I grumpily walked over to collect the day’s bounty around 9am, and couldn’t believe my eyes: am I in Venice Beach? Is this Gjelina? This place is a reclaimed wood-and-galvanized-steel zen mecca, complete with subway tiles, French-country barstools and succulents galore. I want to eat here all the time. And, luckily, I can, because in addition to the juices I’ll be drinking today, they also do healthy morning favorites like muesli with berries and an “egg fry up.” Hello, new breakfast-meeting spot.

9:30am: I get a smoothie!!! A real goddamn smoothie—we’re talking thick, frothy, kale-and-avocado goodness, with some some cilantro, hemp protein, agave, and coconut water. I think of Hannah & Brendan’s weird smoothie experiments. Aww. I sip and maniacally whisper, “ This is just what I needed,” considering that while walking to The Butcher’s Daughter, I thought my legs might give out from underneath me. Confession: The Butcher’s Daughter also has coffee (La Colombe coffee, in fact), which I drank. Don’t judge! I’ve got a business to run.

10:00am: Nick looks at me like the traitor that I am. “What is that?” he swivels around in his desk chair, eyeing my smoothie. “Then you’re not going to like what’s in this bag,” I say, pulling out a cardboard takeout box containing a jumbo chopped salad. We barely speak for the rest of the day.

11:15am: Someone sends us a box of Ladurée macaroons and I nearly have a meltdown. GET IT OUUUUTTTTT!!!

1pm: This is the most beautiful salad I’ve ever seen or eaten in my life [2]. It has julienned zucchini, carrots, and peppers over chopped kale, with a big dollop of hummus on top. I’m in heaven. More importantly, it’s what I’m actually craving, instead of a club sandwich. Perhaps my taste buds are readjusting to a more natural, less MSG-addicted state?

3pm: The salad made me super tired and I’m finally coming out of it, with the help of some Harney & Sons Sencha green tea. Time to get through juices 2 and 3. So much juice. So many bathroom trips. Does anyone else find peeing super inconvenient?

6:30pm: Nick and I sort of float over to The Smile for a “drinks” meeting. Again with the “Oh, I’m a juice cleanse!” revelations and subsequent ten minute conversation about why, how, etc. One-way ticket to “I’m an asshole”-ville, there’s just no way around it. Our friend Heather has a glass of champagne; Nick and I have tea. I cry a little inside.

8pm: Jeanine Lobell picks me up for Kate Young’s Target collection launch party [3]. I have water with lemon and have a real internal debate on whether or not to pee there or pee at home. Even the smallest, most inconsequential decisions become so hard when your brain is wondering why you’re putting your body through such torment. I think it secretly rebels. At home, I crawl into bed and pass out in my contacts, makeup, etc.

Nick :

Morning: I pass a taco truck on the way to the gym, pause, salivate, and take some iPhone pictures [4]. To Instagram or not to Instagram? It's not even a question because NO ONE CARES ABOUT A PICTURE OF A TACO TRUCK, I'M JUST HUNGRY. I make it through my workout unscathed, though I'm basically doing everything in slow-mo (all I've had is a green drink). On the way home, I furiously text a few friends, asking them to grant me permission to drink coffee. (Jill's rules say green tea only.) One says, “Choose one vice, either coffee or vodka, and go for it,” Another writes back, “Don't do it! Tea,” Fuck tea, Melissa. I buy yet another box of green tea from the bodega. This makes four boxes of green tea purchased since Monday, in the hopes that the next one will be more potent or tastier— coffee-ier—than the last. Green tea is green tea, sorry guys.

Afternoon: Everything's OK. I feel less out of it than yesterday, but I will say, to echo Emily's sentiment, that it's really twisted to call something “Butternut Bisque' [5] that is so decidedly unlike a comforting, cream-based soup. Jill Pettijohn's version includes pulverized squash, celery, tomato, red onion, yellow pepper, apple cider vinegar, salt, olive oil, and filtered water. It tastes like....a blended drink. Meanwhile, Emily's jumped from Juice Press to The Butcher's Daughter, and now she's allowed salads, too. So now Elizabeth's chomping on salad, Emily's chomping on salad, and I'm drinking un-bisque. Un-bisqu-eavable!

Early Evening: Emily and I feel so douche-y pulling out our juice bottles during our drinks meeting. Luckily, this is New York City and this is the fashion world, so Heather doesn't bat an eyelash and tells us about the time she became a raw vegan for six months. I'm hungry. For cooked meat. We're at The Smile, for christsake, where the air smells so strongly of pickles and hipsters that your clothes always end up smelling like a pickled artisanal radish until you wash them. High point: Heather compliments our skin, saying she can “tell' we've been cleansing. Interesting.

Evening: I'm going strong until I walk into my apartment and lay down on my bed. Immediately, I feel like Jell-O and am really lethargic. A friend calls me and I have no clue what we talked about. Something about Justin Timberlake, maybe? I summon the energy to walk a few blocks to the Maritime Hotel, where I proceed to knock back my Brazil Nut Milk while my dining companion has a steak, salad, and a Peroni [6]. He feels bad. I tell him not to. Juicing feels sort of lame, like “ Wahh, I'm hungry, but I'm bringing it all upon myself.' Kind of over it.

Michael :

Perhaps it was the sleep or maybe a shamanic blessing cast by a quartz-wearing yogi over my bottles, but for whatever reason, I've woken up on day 2 in much better shape than when I clocked out on day 1. To be fair, I was somewhat harsh in yesterday's write-up, so I would like to take a moment to apologize to everyone in LA who loves silly hats and also to give some credit to the A-Team at Skinny Limits for giving me this opportunity to get all juiced up. I looked in the mirror this morning and I saw pride. I saw power. I saw a badass mother who don't take no crap off nobody. In fact, I have so much energy right now that I'm going to go bowling (...well, also because they charge half-price if you go before noon. Now that's a deal on a deal!)

11am: I'm three juices deep now, but you're most likely wondering how bowling went. Get this: I bowled FIVE games and averaged 19.2 mph per roll (which is a pretty impressive feat of strength for me). That said, I did not top my all-time best score and I think the speed increase is mainly due to my kick-ass push-up regimen. I'm going to estimate that my accuracy was down 7% due to juice-induced delirium, and that, ladies and gentleman, is the difference between a strike and an 8-pin roll of shame.

1pm: All in all, I'm pretty happy with how today is going. The snarky side of me still sees this as a multi-day fast with froufrou CapriSun, but maybe while I'm giving things up, I should also cut back on being an asshole. You see, I've realized that this is less about what I'm consuming and more about what I'm not consuming. I generally have the diet of a spoiled twelve-year-old boy on vacation at his grandparents' house. To put it more academically, this cleanse is a three-day cheeseburger-themed Lysistrata. At 28 years-old, I'm finally having my Come to Jesus-Spinach Moment.

3pm: I've put off cheating as long as possible, but after downing juice number 4 (the lemonade-cayenne one), I'm still starving. And so, I am now going to eat two avocado summer rolls [7]. Up to this point, I feel like I've given 110%, but in my heart, I know I let myself down, and I let my team down. Commence stone throwing.

5pm: It has come to my attention that I now have several pimples on my nose [8]. Who knew a juice cleanse could be a time machine to my high school years? Emily has informed me that this means my “body is getting rid of the toxins,” That doesn't sound very scientific. Hey Emily, what was your major in college? Exactly. #NotThrilled

7pm: Pimples aside, day 2 has been a breeze. At the least this cleanse is making me think more about my health, so that's worth something. And now, BRING ON THE CASHEW-CINNAMON POTION.

Elizabeth :

I’m going to be honest here: I am not feeling this juice cleanse thing. I’m all for being healthy, but I’m not sure much of the One Lucky Duck diet is going to be incorporated into my post-cleanse diet. Weirdly enough, I'm not actually that hungry; in fact, I’m pretty not hungry. I have four “meals” (three big and one snack) to get through for the day.

Morning: Swan Greens Juice (cucumber, spinach, dandelion, grapefruit, tarragon, spearmint, yuzu) and a chewy almond crunch bar [11]. The crunch bar was pretty good and the juice was one I'd already had, so I knew what to expect. It was a good way to start the day.

Snack: After having breakfast a bit late—around 9:30am—I waited until noon to have my snack, a “Sarma’s Favorite Green Shake' and a gingersnap cookie [12]. I’m good with cookies. I eat that no problem, but Sarma’s Favorite Green Shake was a bit intimidating. Word to the wise: straws are your friend during a juice cleanse.

Lunch: Around 3:30pm, I decided it was a good time for lunch: a falafel salad and a Mean Greens Juice [13]. I love falafel salads, LOVE. I go to Maoz like it is my job, to the point that the store manager and I became friends, would chat about life, and he knew my order. (It was actually a pretty awesome moment, realizing that you have become a regular somewhere, followed by a quick, ‘ Should I be embarrassed?’ thought. Whatever. I love it). I was pretty excited by this meal but possibly more frightened by the aptly titled “Mean Greens Juice,” After one sip, no. That was it. No more. I do not like that. I had a third of my very big salad and called it quits for lunch.

Dinner: People of the world should be glad I live by myself because, if I had roommates, they would be less than thrilled to interact with me come 8pm last night. I was not having it. Instead of eating my really delicious-sounding/looking Spicy Sesame Salad, I got in bed, turned off the lights, and was asleep by 9:15pm.

I am really trying to get back in the motivational mindset, but to all you juicers who keep on raving about a “glow,” I am not seeing/feeling/breathing/noticing/living that. Instead, I’m pretty sure I'm developing a serious bitch face and am ready to give anyone eating meat an evil side glare. New Yorkers beware, I’ll do my best to avoid you on my way home, but don’t mess with me.